


she's leaving home after living alone for so many years

by confusingtimelessnessandtime



Series: anne fics [1]
Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Class Differences, F/M, Female Friendship, Gen, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 14:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21210146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusingtimelessnessandtime/pseuds/confusingtimelessnessandtime
Summary: Life is short and the world is widehad been difficult at first.Diana is coming to understand it now, though. There isn't time to worry about the hem of her skirt when the small stitches are the same colour as the rest of her dress and she could be dancing, letting her skirt swirl around her calves. There's no reason to believe the worst is coming when she has no evidence and could be laughing her worries away with a friend. The world is bigger than Avonlea church picnics and exports to England, and Mrs. Rachel Lynde's gossiping won't be the death of her when there's so much more to see.





	she's leaving home after living alone for so many years

**Author's Note:**

> written because I love diana and am way too invested in her storyline this season even if everything else on the show is getting a bit weird! set somewhere vaguely around episode five or six of season three. title is from she's leaving home by the beatles.

"Do you ever feel left out, having no beau of your own?" Ruby asks her at lunch one day, whispering so that Josie and Jane won't overhear. Her eyes are wide and she looks at her like a half-drowned kitten. Anne, from beside Diana, packs up her slate and chalk without paying much attention to the conversation. 

"No," she replies. It isn't the biggest lie she's ever told, and she's smiling so Ruby will believe her. "I have every faith my parents will pick an appropriate suitor for me. Until then, there's not much point in beaus." 

"Protecting yourself from the heartbreak of being torn away from your beloved?" Anne suggests. When Diana turns, her eyes are unfocused somewhere near the ceiling of the schoolroom. 

She doesn't know how to tell Anne not to romanticise, not when she's happy and thinks Diana is a fictional character who will be swept up by some handsome stranger. She smiles. "Something like that." 

That isn't the only thing she's keeping from Anne these days. 

When she and Diana walk home, they stumble over tree roots giggling or singing. Anne waxes poetic about the branches extending above them and the pale birch trees, tripping over her own feet and gathering flowers. Diana listens and laughs, sometimes forgetting her problems, sometimes enjoying herself despite them. She's even able to talk about what's bothering her sometimes, although Anne looks uncomfortable or pitying that she only does so if she needs to.

She's been thinking about other things on these walks lately. Anne still talks about the trees, but more often she's longing to know about her parents and the family she might have been born into. Diana, for her part, does not talk about how much she'll miss Anne once she's away at school, or how jealous she is sometimes for her freedom, or how much she had been thinking about Aunt Josephine's words. 

She certainly doesn't tell Anne who she's meeting or why she blows a kiss goodbye at the clearing feeling lighter than she had all day. Anne has noticed, she's sure, but she hasn't said anything and likely doesn't know why. 

"Salut," says Jerry when he sees her on the path. "You look very pretty today." 

"And you're getting bolder with every day we meet," Diana replies, though she feels warmer at the compliment. She keeps walking, although her pace is a little slower, and he falls into step with her. 

They walk in silence for a minute or two. Diana spends the time very aware of his presence, not looking at him but hearing his breathing and even footsteps on the path beside her. She doesn't dare speak first. 

"How was school?" Jerry asks. 

"It was very good," she replies. "Ever since Miss Stacy arrived, nothing is dull. She had us recite our favourite poems aloud in class today." 

He lets out an amused huff. "Anne said you would be doing that. Mr. Cuthbert stayed in the barn most of yesterday to avoid Miss Cuthbert scolding Anne as she looked for her poetry book." 

"That sounds like her," Diana laughs, recalling that Anne had mentioned trying to find her book that morning. 

"Do you like to read?" He asks her. Diana looks at him for the first time, and thinks that she ought to stop being surprised by how tall he is. He looks interested in her answer. 

"Very much, though not in the way that Anne does," she answers. 

She can hear the smile in his voice as he says, "Not many do things the way Anne does. How do you read?" 

Diana has never been asked a question like this, an honest inquiry as to how her mind works and what she perceives. It takes her a few absentminded steps down the dirt path to find a way to explaining it. Jerry waits patiently. 

"I look for the plots and the foreshadowing. What authors do to hint at what will happen," she adds for his benefit, in case he hadn't heard the word before. "I like knowing how things will end. It's in the small things, like the way things are worded or the looks two characters give each other. I like noticing things and figuring the rest out." 

"C'est très distant," Jerry notes. "When I read, I feel less alone. I like that it gives me new words to say what I feel. I'm not the only person who has felt it." 

"Tu le dis merveilleusement," she tells him, and thinks, _no one can see us. It doesn't matter that I used "tu" rather than "vous" because he used "tu" with me first, and besides, no one can see us._ She puts a hand on his arm. 

He stops walking, looking a little stunned. There's a blush spreading across his face. "Quoi?" 

"Oui, vraiment," Diana tells him. Intentionally, she lowers her hand and catches his in it, fingers interlocking like perhaps they were always meant to. His hand is much larger than hers and very warm. 

"Tu es extraordinaire," he says softly. 

Diana has been told that she is pretty before, by relatives and friends who envy or admire her youth or her dark hair or her nicest blue dress. Jerry has told her that she is pretty before. He told her the first time he met her that she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. 

She isn't sure why hearing that he thinks she's wonderful makes her heart feels light and free or why she wants to say _to hell with my parents, let’s run away together._ It's like something out of the novels her mother kept in the dresser drawer that she found accidentally, except with less formality and more French. 

He's so much taller than her that when he steps closer to take her other hand, she has to tilt her chin up like she's admiring trees with Anne again. Jerry is nicer to look at than trees, she thinks, with his warm smile and dark eyes and signature tweed cap. His coat is threadbare, but he smiles with his entire face, not just his mouth. 

"If my parents found out about this, I'd be sent away," she whispers, hardly meaning to say it. 

Luckily, he doesn't take offense. Jerry shrugs in his usual, affable way and asks, "So is this a secret from them or from everyone?" 

"It would have to be from everyone," she decides. "If my sister hears, she'll tell our parents. If Anne hears, she'll mention it to Miss Cuthbert, who tells Mrs. Lynde, who tells my parents. I can't have this made into a piece of gossip to slander me. I like you too much for that to happen." 

"Moi aussi," he agrees. 

Diana searches his face for any hint he might be hurt or upset and finds none. "I know my parents might find out sooner or later, but I want as much time with you as I can get before then." 

"It sounds smart," he says, and gives her hands a small squeeze. "You are very smart." 

Diana has never been called smart, either. A smile sneaks onto her face, unbidden, and she can't quite get it to leave. 

"Shall I meet you on your walk home for the rest of the week?" Jerry inquires. If she has a long way to look up, he certainly has a long way to look down to meet her eyes. "Not before the clearing, Anne is with you, je sais." 

"Exactement," she replies, still smiling. "I look forward to it." 

"À plus tard," he says, and lets go of Diana's hands. She waits until he's out of sight before she rounds the corner to her family's house.

Anne is a kindred spirit, but Jerry understands her. Diana has found nothing of kin or understanding in her house and hadn't realised it was lacking until she had formed such close bonds outside of her family. She had made that vow to Anne years ago without knowing what it meant. 

Anne's friendship has emboldened her, and Aunt Josephine had showed her just how much she didn't know. She had never let herself make mistakes before, never took a chance or broke a rule. Diana knows the consequences of being found with Jerry, but she's still discovering the rewards.

She thinks a lot about what Aunt Josephine had said. For someone who had hardly made a decision without thinking about every possible way it could go wrong and how to react if it does, someone who had never attended a funeral until Mary had passed away, someone who had been to Charlottetown twice and England once and otherwise stayed in Avonlea for the entirety of her life - 

_Life is short and the world is wide_ had been difficult at first. 

Diana is coming to understand it now, though. There isn't time to worry about the hem of her skirt when the small stitches are the same colour as the rest of her dress and she could be dancing, letting her skirt swirl around her calves. There's no reason to believe the worst is coming when she has no evidence and could be laughing her worries away with a friend. The world is bigger than Avonlea church picnics and exports to England, and Mrs. Rachel Lynde's gossiping won't be the death of her when there's so much more to see. 

Anne might be proud, if Diana told her any of that. She might also take credit for it, which she didn't think she could bear and which kept her from saying anything. Worrying about this instead of deciding once and for all to tell or keep her silence was likely counterintuitive, but it was a hard habit to break.

Her parents might not be the authoritative, all-powerful figures they had been in her childhood, but they can still make life difficult for her if they decided to. She respects her mother less and less each time she threatens finishing school for her or for Minnie Mae, and any respect she had held for her father is long gone. Diana does what they say because it's easier, not because she likes it. 

Piano lessons take an hour, her disastrous recital with Minnie Mae takes ten minutes, and her homework takes another hour because she keeps thinking about what Jerry would say about the kind of work they're given in school. By the time she's free and reading for pleasure, the sky is dark and she needs to light her candle to see. 

It occurs to her that _I like books for their predictability_ was not a very chancey or open-minded answer and she wants to slap herself. She doesn't, of course, because Minnie Mae would hear her and ask her what's wrong with her, or maybe go straight to their parents. Jerry had called her distant for saying it. 

Diana keeps reading, trying to analyse what she likes and why. It's tricky to put into words, and she finds she doesn't enjoy her reading as much when she's focused on herself. She lets herself get lost in her book for another half-hour before changing into her nightdress. 

She braids her hair, weaving the three parts together until they can be tied with a ribbon, and thinks about what Anne would say if she knew she was seeing Jerry. She would almost certainly cover for Diana, but she never saw the point of secrecy or of hiding any part of herself. Diana had thought it was a stupid kind of bravery until she realised that Anne simply didn't know how to be any other way. She envies that sometimes. 

Anne might understand more than she gives her credit for, she thinks, remembering the look that she sometimes got while looking at Gilbert Blythe. Diana still isn't sure whether Anne knows what she feels, since Diana had dropped the subject last year and not asked again. They are the only two girls in the class without romantic prospects to giggle over, and as much as Anne insists it's the fault of her red hair or her freckled face, Diana knows better.

She won't tell Anne about Jerry just yet. They have mere months left together until she goes off to college and Diana is doomed to become a wife, and she'd rather not make it more complicated than it already is. 

She wonders, as she climbs into bed, what kind of emotions Jerry can only find in books. 

In the mornings, she bickers with her sister as her parents bicker with each other over newspapers or exports or the latest piece of Avonlea gossip. She stabs a piece of fruit from Minnie Mae's plate when she isn't looking, just to be petty, and her mother scolds her for being unladylike. 

Diana used to live her life in fear of not being the perfect wife for any gentleman her parents might send her way. Now, she fears the gentleman and the life that stretches ahead of her far more than her own behavior. Her father doesn't seem to mind that her mother does her hair for practicality rather than style, and she doesn't understand why balancing books on her head is more important than reading them. 

She keeps her head down throughout her mother's familiar lecture, and soon enough it's over and she can leave for school. She likes having a reason to escape, and now that Mr. Phillips is gone she likes being in school too. Miss Stacy makes everything interesting, and when she's at the front of the classroom her students matter. Diana can't be a teacher, but she can see how suited Miss Stacy is to teach and inspire her students to learn more. 

She would join the after-school study group if she could see any point in it, but learning is the first kind of rebellion her mother would notice, especially if she has to stay after school. Anne was crestfallen when she didn't attend, but Diana can bear her enthusiasm for it as long as she doesn't keep hinting that she ought to join. 

When she arrives at school, Anne is waiting for her. Her hat is on the table instead of on a hook, and as she notices Diana she smiles and picks it up. She had been saving her seat for her, Diana realises, and feels lighter already. 

Sunlight is streaming through the windows of the schoolroom. Mr. Phillips had kept the shutters closed, only to be opened when a student was clapping the dust out of the chalkboard erasers as a punishment. Under Miss Stacy's rule, they are kept open until the cold makes it impossible and the furnace is lit only if it is needed. She does not make students chop wood and throw it in unless they volunteer. 

Anne's braids look closer to golden in the morning sun, something more akin to Ruby's blonde curls than carrots. Diana would tell her so if she thought Anne would believe it. The morning sun turns everything to gold, and the dust in the air swirls through the open windows. 

She only has a few more months of escaping to school, so she ought to make it count. Diana raises a hand to her half-necklace and listens to Ruby asking Anne what _The Lady of Shalott_ is really about because it can't just be about someone dying like that for no reason. 

"It's for love," she explains, eyes shining with something beyond what either she or Ruby could see. "The Lady intends to float down to see her knight just once, and the risk of the curse is worth it so that she can know the love she has been denied all her life." 

"It's for freedom," Diana corrects. She wouldn't, except that she fes too strongly that the Lady of Shalott could not have escaped the curse any other way. "The curse tells her that she can't leave, but she's sick of living under the threat of it and smashes the mirror so she can chase after what she saw. The circumstances of her imprisonment make it impossible for her to be happy with Sir Lancelot and she knows that, but she has to try to be free." 

Ruby stares at her blankly, picking at the hem of her pale pink sleeve. Anne is watching her as though she's never heard anything so interesting in her life. 

"Oh," she whispers. "Diana, that was beautiful." 

"That was very well-put," agrees a voice from behind her, and she twists around to find Miss Stacy smiling at her. 

"Thank you," Diana says demurely, and thinks about Jerry telling her that she is smart. He's probably doing his chores at the Cuthberts' farm now, the sun lighting his contented, handsome face with the kind of grace found in paintings. He could be thinking about her. 

From behind her, Ruby sighs hopelessly. "I still don't understand." 

She has just over one hundred days here, talking with Anne and Ruby as Jane and Tillie whisper in the coat room and Josie tries to catch Billy's attention. She has just over one hundred days to learn all she can from Miss Stacy, to think about Jerry, to listen to the children she has spent years growing up with be children. 

Diana turns to Anne and lets her explain how she interpreted the poem. Her analysis can wait. It had perhaps proved that she understands Jerry better than she had thought, finding her own opinions about her place in life in a poem written long ago. She sees the romance through Anne's eyes, and knows without knowing how that Jerry would disagree. 

Ruby clings into Anne's every word. Behind them, Miss Stacy listens and Gilbert Blythe smiles at her hand gestures from across the room, as though she's the teacher and all they can do is watch her finish her lesson. 

Diana notices all of this and thinks, _what's so bad about a predictable plot?_


End file.
